Hey! How about a poem?

This one’s made out to… well, I guess I can’t answer that. <3

Your name is music to my ears.
Please tell me what it is
So every time I hear it spoken
I can feel like this.

That’s it. Short and sweet. 

 

Home from the capital of Lebanon

First. I’d like to mention how much I delight in the fact that my blog is called “the fence” and  get to click “new post.” It absolutely tickles me. Ok. Here. Have a melancholy poem.

An empty seat enjoyed the music
‘Cause when I offered you refused it
So my condolences to you
Block B Row C one-thirty-two

It sat there folded, cold and lonley
It creaked as if to say, “if only”
I touched its arm and just as blue
Said, “right there with you, 1-3-2″

And then, well I got pretty cross
I know they said that there’s no loss
But were you informed of the view
From one-thirty and one-thirty-two?

Even though the show was super
I’m still stumbling in a stupor
What the hell? This can’t be true
You didn’t want one-thirty-two?

I had some choices to go through
But little choosing there to do
In the end I wanted you
Seated in one-thirty-two

 

Here, have a poem.

~~
Her voice would lift his head
Make him feel not quite so dead
Even melt his heart of lead
Though she always spoke, “No.”

He wished it could be real
To walk her dog,
Cook her meal
If she’s sick he’d help her heal
It just would not be so.

He never fought the notion
It would cause too much comotion
So he lived with the emotion
But he had to let it show -

Though she always spoke, “No.

It just would not be so.”

He had to let her know.
~~

 

Almost there / Interims stink!

Part 1: Almost there

It has been a long and trying semester for me. Academically I’ve overcome personal odds and it feels pretty freakin good. I have half an assignment left to do and three more final exams left to complete. By Wednesday at 930 PM I will be loose upon the world to wreak creative havoc. A few weeks ago, I essentially checked myself out of school and focused on my writing. I caught myself before it became too much of a mistake and refocused on school, but it didnt really make me feel any better about myself as a person. One of the things I look most forward to about finishing this semester is having time and energy to pour into my own art. Thank goodness!

Part 2: Interims stink!

I’m single and I’m dealing with it. One of the most important lessons I’ve learned about singularity, which is my new term for the state of being single, is that you cannot sit on feelings. If you have a feeling, you have to voice it. It’s imperative. If the feeling is strong, and you try to sit on it, it only accumulates. It’s so much easier to make personal progress if you take care of this stuff early SO! — I asked a beautiful woman to a movie and got a rather ambiguous response. She happens to be out of town for the weekend and gave me that information as an answer. What the heck!? I spent around ten hours following our last communication both sweating bullets and shitting bricks. I slept on it and woke up in some sort of zen. I know I’ll see her soon, and when I do the topic will more than likely surface. But that doesn’t change the fact that…
INTERIMS STINK!
Of course I’m referring to the interim between asking someone out and pretty much asserting that you’d like to try and court them, and finding out how they really feel about it. I feel like a child on christmas eve with a realistic expectation of finding a lump of coal. I’m really hoping for that Dinorider Triceratops though. The interim is terrible, but I’ve put myself through longer and worse for worse reasons. I will deal with it. I’ll make it through faster than I did the last time. But it makes me wonder—

What to we gain from lying to each other about how we feel?

 

Bathtub Poetry

Sometimes when I bathe I turn the lights off. What do I really need the light for anyway? I know where everything is. In any case, most of the time my poetry comes to me spontaneously, like when I’m falling asleep, or in this case bathing. No, the content of this poem does not reflect the lighting conditions during my wash.

“Some of them burn warm and bright
Some of them just smolder
Some get smothered in the night
And leave their bearers colder.

I awoke this morning to
A little puff of smoke
I didn’t even have
A single ember I could stoke

Afternoon is passing
The sun is out of sight
I’m tired and it’s dark out
Anybody have a light?”

But if the whole world was set fire, he’d still be lost wandering blind through his own shadow.

 

No time!

So I haven’t had time to make that real video blog I’ve been talking about. I’ve spent way too much time sleeping and doing science and writing to make it happen. Right now I’m drowsy and frustrated. I’m frustrated with authority figures abusing their authority. I’m also frustrated with people neglecting to return my correspondence. /fistshake @ Judie. I’m also frustrated with my low readership. Maybe I should post more interesting things?

Hmm, would I be knee deep in it if I got my novel published?

 

Thanks, birds… aaand, gross dude.

So, this isn’t the video blog I promised. I’ll get around to that this weekend. This video, however, couldn’t wait.

 

Grrrump!

What an absolutely frustrating day! In this state I can’t even put my finger on what it was that made me sooo upset, but oh you better believe I took copious notes. How irritating was my day? So irritating that when I get around to reading those notes I’m going to record a freakin video. It isn’t enough that you read what happened, you have to see the fervor with which I articulate the absurdities.

 

“last 16 sheets detachable”

In my ongoing efforts to finish my novel, I carry around a little moleskine notebook. You know, just in case inspiration strikes. I prefer to write in pencil first and type later anyway. Finally, I’m nearing the end of a notebook. It’s a pretty exciting feeling to be able to flip through it and see all its pages filled with writing. I ran into a problem. As I was writing, half the page came loose.  I looked closely, and the last chunk of pages were all perferated. WHAT? I know. So I started looking online at more moleskine notebooks. How could I be sure that the last pages in any subsequent notebooks were not also freaking perforated? None of the notebooks I was looking at said anything about perforated pages, so I actively looked for the kind I already had. When I found it, I found it. See post title.

Other thoughts on writing:
Writing violent, tragic, and possibly ironic death scenes is super fun in a totally non-creepy way.
Writing a family’s reaction to finding their skewered matriarch is super difficult as balls.
End.

 

 

haha, I haven’t posted in so long that I forgot my blog’s name.

First of all, post title. It is both sad, true, and amusing. I guess technically I shouldn’t use “both” when I’m using three adjectives, but you get the point. Soooo since last time I have… and in no particular order

-Well I found that peace for the most part. Those damn ghosts in my life finally decided to settle the hell down. Big satisfaction there.

-I bought some new shit for my bike. I finally decided it was time to upgrade from my fattyghetto bmx pedals to some sexy clip in pedals. Good buy.

-I’ve been taking photos of silly things and posting them on my facebook, but havent kept up with my videos. I wanted the camera so I could make the videos, and then stopped. I’m sure I have interesting thoughts that need to be recorded. I should revive that habit.

-I’ve been liking women who have secret boyfriends who live out of state (hmph.) I should end that habit.

-I’ve been getting straight As. Some may read this and think, “yeah that’s great kid, who the hell cares?” I’ve always been smart, but I’ve also always been lazy. Laaaaazyyyyy. This is why, for the most part, I ignore apostrophes…except in it’s and its because those are different, but dont is the same as don’t to me. Whatever. The point is, it’s a magical and new feeling for me to be 2/3 of the way through the semester and think, “Holy shit, batman! I has the As!” Even in organic chemistry which I failed once, and then a second time even harder. Suck it. This semester I am taking Cell theory, Organic chemistry, and Evolutionary analysis.

-Here’s the important one. Yes, in some respects this is more important to me than the grades. I’ve been writing!! If you read much of my stuff youll notice that I am extremely frugal with my exclamation points, and Ive just used two. Now, this writing hasnt been consistant over the past — how long has it been? what? three and a half months? shit. — Ive been writing furiously over the past week.
My cell theory class is 80% review material for me, and it’s gotten to the point where I really cant stand listening to my professor. He… I’ll write a paragraph about this later. Ive been writing in that class instead of paying attention. For example, today I had a rather triumphant literary day. After taking Dr. Murray’s little four question quiz, I opened up my bag to look for my little brown moleskine notebook. By the way, everyone always asks me if its a diary. NO! NOT DIARY. It wasn’t there, but I knew it wasn’t lost because Im mostly obsessive about making sure I dont leave it behind; there are a slew of important notes in that thing. But I had my trusty backup notebook fashioned from my old genetics lab book. So I opened it up, looked down, and fifty minutes later I was six pages deep and had a dead queen on my hands. I didn’t even realize how much I liked the way I had worked it out. It was so delightfully ironic, and no the irony was not lost on her. It was such a satisfying experience. I had been thinking about this scene for at least the past week, and all of a sudden I realized the baby was coming. The entire scene is currently split up between my little brown book and my reused genetics lab book, so maybe when I smash em together Ill post it, but honestly copyright issues there are nervous-making.

The hard part, the REAL hard part, is getting the reactions of her family down correctly when they find her tangled in a pretty hellish briar, skewered through the torso with her own rapier. Maybe I need to interview people who have found murdered relatives. Oh my.

My novel is somewhat of a hodgepodge of some sort of fantasy and hamlet. Swords, a little magic, multiple gods, lots of family drama, and a whole lot of death. I have very strict rules for myself when I’m writing about death. If I take the time to give someone a name, and write out a significant portion of their life, I’m not going to give them a half-assed death. The idea of meaningless deaths for important characters really bothers me. I arrived at this rule from a couple sources. The first source is my high school theatre experience. One thing I remember most of all about stage directions was don’t move unless you have a purpose. Not only does this mantra help me figure out what my characters are doing in general, it’s also a good guideline for killin’ people. The second source of inspiration for this rule is a little bit more direct, and that’s the movie Stranger Than Fiction. I’m not going to explain it. If youve seen the movie, you understand.

Ok, I said I’d explain why I don’t care for Dr. Murray.
Here’s a list of my petty reasons.
-I don’t like his voice
-I don’t like his face
-I think hes really just off-season santa
-I don’t like his outfit. Yes, he only has one
-I don’t like his gestures
–hand talkers are fine, but for the love of pete, PLEASE have more than one gesutre in your repertoire
Here’s a list of my slightly less petty reasons
-His notes stink
-His penmanship stinks
-His quiz format stinks
– He displays the answer after each question and then gets upset when people emote. Idiot.
And that’s why I dont like my Cell instructor.

Before I go to bed, I have one last question. Why is my dog such a giant bitch? Most of the time, emphasis on most, she’s terribly sweet. The exception is when she lets out a long slow fart before running away and leaving me finishing my blog post in the haze. Thanks, Marley. I love you. Bitch.